


i don’t need the world to see that i’ve been the best i can be

by galaxscene



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, and i have a lot of feelings about hawke, and someone to tell her she's a good person, hawke has a lot of feelings ok, she needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 23:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10673286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxscene/pseuds/galaxscene
Summary: Hawke gets some stuff off of her chest





	i don’t need the world to see that i’ve been the best i can be

Loss was something that Varric Tethras was intimately familiar with. When his mother passed away he was devastated, broken. And he had grieved. Hard.

  
People had their own ways of dealing with loss and grief – some less healthy than others he would admit – but at least they mourned. Got it out of their system. Varric couldn’t help but think of grieving processes as he sat in The Hanged Man, silently watching his closest friend. Hawke was loudly talking and joking at a nearby table with people Varric wasn’t sure he had ever seen before. The tavern was near empty and he was certain Hawke’s new friends were only there because of the steady stream of alcohol she was providing.

  
Varric raised an eyebrow as Hawke ordered yet another drink. He would bet Bianca (well no, not really) that Hawke had lost count of the number she’d downed so far. And it didn’t look like she was prepared to slow down. Just as she was about to lift the mug to her lips Varric got up from his seat and sauntered over to her.

  
He took hold of her arm, shaking his head. “Hey now, Wallflower. Leave some for the rest of Kirkwall,” he mused, taking the mug.

  
“H-hey!” Hawke protested but couldn’t do much in her drunken stupor. So she just watched and pouted as Varric handed her drink to a random bar patron who happily accepted it.

  
Varric just snorted in amusement at his friend’s (frankly adorable) grumpy-face. “I think it’s time you went home, Hawke. All that alcohol _can’t_ be good for you. Especially the swill coming from this place…” He muttered that last part.

  
Hawke’s face fell a fraction before she broke out into a wide grin. Her speech was slurred and halting, thanks to the gallon of cheap alcohol swishing around in her stomach. “Don’t tell me my f-favourite dwarf is heading in. Everyone else’s already q-quit, you’re telling me it’s past your… your bedtime too?”

  
It was true. Their gaggle of misfit friends had long ago retired for the night. Hawke had waved off their concerns and promised that she too would make her way home in short order.

  
That was quite a while ago.

  
“C’mon you can bunk in my bed tonight. I don’t think you’ll be able to make it all the way to Hightown.”

  
Without much protest from Hawke, Varric helped her to her feet, throwing her arm over his shoulders and supporting her with his own arm around her waist. They slowly shuffled, Hawke quietly grumbling unintelligibly under her breath.

  
As he eyed the flight of stairs before him, Varric started to seriously regret his generosity. Six feet of human was more than he thought he was prepared to handle. But he pressed on, taking things literally one step at a time. Varric grunted. “You’re heavier than you look, Wallflower.”

  
At least she was trying to keep some of her weight off of him. He appreciated the sentiment.

  
When they finally reached his room he let out a groan of appreciation and carefully lowered Hawke onto his bed. He bent to help her out of her boots and attempted to get her settled and comfortable. It was the least he could do. He knew the hangover waiting for her when she woke up would be worse than the monstrous spider they fought in the Deep Roads. And not many things were worse than having to fight a spider the size of a house in the Deep Roads.

  
“She always preferred Bethany, you know,” Hawke said suddenly.

  
That caught Varric’s attention. He looked away from her coat he had laid on the bedside table to see Hawke sitting up and staring at her hands folded in her lap. He wasn’t sure how to respond so he kept quiet.

  
“Bethany was everything mother always wanted in a daughter,” Hawke said, her voice taking on a sad and bitter edge. “Pretty, poised, polite. _Perfect_.”

  
“Hawke, that’s not--”

  
“And then there’s me,” Hawke continued, as though he didn’t speak. “The family d-disappointment. Dad was _devastated_ when my abilities started to show. I couldn’t save Bethany. Carver is Maker-knows-where with the wardens – and h-hating it might I add. He’s told me so in all his letters. And now mother is…” Hawke took in a shuddering breathe. “She’s gone because I couldn’t find her in time. Yet another thing I managed to fuck up.”

  
Ah, there it is. Varric was beginning to worry that Hawke would never talk about her mother’s death. The day it happened she was quiet the whole journey back from that horrific scene. Holed up in the estate, she avoided contact with just about everyone and was rarely – if ever – seen outside. Then she had suddenly emerged two weeks later, all snark and smiles, acting as though nothing had happened and all was right with the world. Varric had started seeing her in The Hanged Man a lot more frequently since then.

  
“Hawke,” Varric said, firmly. “None of that was your fault. Especially not your mother. She loved you.”

  
“But it--”

  
“Was a situation that was completely out of your control. Who could ever have predicted that a crazed serial killer would use your mother for his weird blood magic shit?”

  
Hawke stayed silent for a while. “I didn’t even go to her funeral…” she said quietly, voice laced with guilt.

  
Varric winced and rubbed his neck awkwardly. “Er, well… No. You didn’t.”

  
“I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t tell her I’m sorry for messing up everyone’s lives.”

  
Varric wasn’t sure what to say to that. But he tried. Maker help him he tried. “Hawke. You got your mother and brother to Kirkwall all the way from Lothering. You were practically a slave for an entire year just to get into the city. You went into the Maker-damned Deep Roads to get your family out of poverty. You did the impossible and got your mother’s childhood home back. Hawke I know you and I know you would walk through fire for your family. You’re a good person, Hawke. A good daughter.”

  
Hawke let out something between a sigh and a sob but no tears. Varric guessed crying wasn’t part of her grieving process. Her body sagged, as though the imaginary strings holding her up had been cut, and she flopped backwards onto the pillows.

  
“I need a drink…” she sighed, hand mussing her already wild nest of honey-coloured hair. Her much darker roots were in need of a touch-up but Varric didn’t say anything about it.

  
“You need sleep,” he countered calmly, pulling the heavy duvet over Hawke and tucking it under her chin.

  
Just as he turned away, he felt a tug on the sleeve of his jacket. Hawke stared at him with watery, slightly unfocused eyes. “Don’t leave…” she said in a small voice and Varric felt his heart break.

  
“I’m not going anywhere, Wallflower,” he replied softly, rubbing her hand. “Just getting comfy.”

  
He crossed the room to grab a chair, dragging it from his writing desk to the side of the bed. Once he plopped down and got settled, he gave Hawke a reassuring smile and helped the only way he knew how.

  
“Did I ever tell you about the time…”


End file.
